Rainbow Man
by Mangacat201
Summary: What do the boys do when something starts to diminish the gay population of Pittsburgh? Well... blend in of course! Not quite Xover, not quite Wincest... explanation inside! Also Discl.: I don't own them.. *sob* I'll make no money and give them back!
1. It's just a job!

Rainbow Man

Rainbow Man

Okay, this is my kind of second attempt at Supernatural, and certainly the first to write a longer genuinely English fan fiction, as I'm German native, so bear with me and don't hesitate to correct the mistakes. It's set somewhere after Playthings, mentions of Born under a bad Sign.

As for the explanations:

Not quite Xover means that those of you familiar with Queer as Folk will recognize most of the locations, but I won't be using the characters (at least not by name, maybe some types…) You don't have to know QaF to be able to follow this one in any case. It just struck me as the perfect setting for this story.

Not quite Wincest: Well, as those two boys are young and practically around each other all the time, one thinks… but while I'm not basically opposed to reading it when it's well written, I'm not entirely comfortable with writing it, so everything you may get from me is borderline, but not really enough to be called a romantic relationship. But there will be some very tricky situations for Dean at least g. It's all about innuendo!

Dean's nose twitched only once when the most delicious scent of coffee invaded his senses and then he was wide awake, but not really in the mood to move. He opened his eyes into slits and spotted Sam sitting a the rickety motel table in front of his laptop, steaming cup half-way up to his mouth seemingly forgotten over what he was reading at the moment.

"Hey geek, if you got no better use for the coffee then getting cold at least give it to someone who can appreciate the taste."

"You're cup is on the nightstand and I think I got something here."

And true to his word, there was a twin to the one in his brother's hands sat on the bedside table, all his to take.

"Ahhh, I love ya, Sammy!"

"I know you do, now get your butt out of bed and look at this."

Dean groaned, but swung his legs from the bed and made his way over where his brother's big foot frame was once more hunched over the display. It showed a series of news articles from some little net paper, headlines screaming in a very eye-watering colour scheme.

"Pittsburgh, it says here, has had some serious attacks on their gay population. Three victims so far - two on their way to recovery on a couple of weeks in hospital, the last one in a coma, not likely to wake anytime soon."

"Ok, not that I want to sound homophobic or something, but why exactly is gay bashing in Pittsburgh our kind of gig?"

"Well, second victim was still slightly conscious when the attacker was finished, said the guy vanished into thin air in front of his eyes. Of course, everyone claims that he was confused by serious trauma but we both know better about these things, don't we? I say it's worth checking out, plus it's only about three hundred miles or so."

Dean tried to wrap his still slightly sleep-muddled mind around the case. But as Sam hadn't presented any alternatives he was pretty sure his little brother would pull tooth and nail for that one, so he just sighed and nodded.

"Ok Sammy, let's take up the Pride… but let me tell you, no funny business!"

Sam chuckled and shut his laptop.

"Sure Dean, let's hit the road."

After three hours of driving and a very peculiar selection of music, Sam shook his head at his brother's antics when said brother popped another one of the probably most hardcore tapes into the recorder.

"You know, we're still about a hundred miles from the city and your masculinity so isn't threatened right now."

Dean didn't look at him, flinching just the slightest bit.

"I don't know what you're on about… you know my acquired tastes well enough."

"Yeah Dean, sure."

"Just shut it."

"If you didn't want to go, all you had to do is say so."

"Yeah right, like you wouldn't have taken out the puppy-eye-pout if I said otherwise."

"Would not!"

"So would… God, now we're bantering about your eyes… this case is doomed, I just feel it."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, you remember the nice lady at the hotel? We'll fit in just fine."

"Over my dead body!"

"Just joking Dean, everything's going to be alright."

Passing the city limits, Dean finally stopped sulking and asked Sam where they were going to start. It was still early and they could go after a few hints before searching a room for the night.

"Well, I don't think it'll do any good talking to the victims this evening there's bound to be many visitors right now, but we could go after the guy from the newspaper. He owns a comic shop in downtown and has been quite detailed in his articles, I think he's our best shot at outside information right now."

"Ok, lead the way; I want this over with quickly."

Sam watched in amusement as his brother followed his directions looking really uncomfortable in his own skin since… well ever. Not that they didn't get the hints often enough on the course of their journey, they were after all two young splendid looking males coming off the road to lodge in seedy motels, but now they were diving headlong into it. Well, he couldn't wait for the teasing material that was going to come of off this one.

They parked opposite the little comic shop and Dean rummaged through the box finally throwing him an ID.

"Private Investigators?"

"Yeah, I don't think he'll dig the cops to much if I know my stuff and he sure won't just spill to tourists. Just let me do the talking."

A little bell rang when they opened the door and Dean went straight to the shelves to browse the display, pretending to search for some old edition of Spiderman or something. Sam looked over his shoulder briefly and then eyed the interior of the shop with practised ease. Practically every flat surface no matter if vertical or horizontal seemed to be plastered with masked faces and bulging muscle beneath spandex. Sam lifted one eyebrow slowly and then looked back at his brother, who seemed to have found something to his liking. He followed him to the counter where smiling dark-haired guy waited for their purchase. Only he was kind of tiny… maybe five foot four or something, well, not exactly tiny but he got nothing on Sam's height. Dean squinted for the name tag as he laid the comic on the counter.

"Hey… Mitch. Nice selection you got round here. Been working this shop really well, I suppose."

The counter guy – Mitch – smiled brightly at the compliment, raking a quick eye over both of the new customers.

"Dude, isn't the owner the guy that also runs that web paper?"

"Yeah, that's me; I'm the editor of the Rainbow Mag, you heard of it?"

"Oh, that's you! Yeah, I read about the attacks. You got some pretty accurate details there; care to talk about your source?"

The smile dimmed instantly and the eyes became guarded, flicking from one brother to the other. He seemed to get an idea about them, which was confirmed by his next words.

"I've already talked to the cops about that, and they were not quite keen on the information then."

"No, no we're not cops, we're private investigators, just came into town. We're looking into the case as well," Sam interjected, getting a little glare from Dean's side.

"Right, you got any ID?"

They flashed their cards immediately, but just long enough for the guy to have confirmed the right occupation written on them. But he seem to be the cautious type who didn't believe in authorities instantly, not surprising as being a openly gay business man could do that to you. "So, if you came into town today, why are you interested in this case? Surely you didn't come here just because there was nothing to do at home?"

Dean hurried for an explanation that would persuade the guy into talking to them.

"Well, it's a favour for a friend; he's got a kid living round here and was concerned about it. He asked us to look into it."

Behind him Sam wanted to roll his eyes; that wouldn't have convinced the next Granma. Apparently, the shop owner had the same opinion, because he eyed them with no less suspicion for a few more moments. Then his face brightened again in a flash and he chuckled good-naturedly under his breath.

"You're not out officially, are you? Should have known at once, you look the type. If just said you wanted to help the community I wouldn't have made such a fuss."

While Dean was still frozen in shock of once again 'looking the type', Sam saw an out and jumped in without really thinking about the consequences. He threw an arm around his baffled brother and closed the gap between them considerably.

"Yeah, you know we can't be to open about the family secrets, we tend to attract all kinds of trouble in our line of work. But we really want to help, and I think this could use some professional research."

The expression of Mitch's eyes seemed to soften a great deal when he looked at the two young men in front of him. Dean was still not really getting into the conversation, as he was starring horrified down at the hand resting on his hip.

"And you're such a cute couple, too. Tell me, you got to town today, you got somewhere to stay already?"

Sam shook his head all the while contemplating what he had done here and that Dean was so going to strangle him when he came out of his stupor.

"Ah, great, I'm going to jot down the address of the Pride Hostel for you. Tell Ralf that Mitch sent you boys, and he will surely make room for you, and my mum's cooking there, Monica, her apple pie is worth dying for."

At this Dean's head snapped up again, smile plastered on his face in typical Winchester acting mode, like it happened every day that your little brother sneaked his hand under your jacket to feel you up.

"Oh, we'll have to see about that… I've had apple pies that rival everything in the dying department."

Mitch looked a bit confused, but Sam snatched the address out of his offering hand.

"Thanks, we'll just have to meet you later to talk about the case, yeah? Maybe we'll drop by tomorrow."

"Oh, no need, I'm going to be at Ralf's for dinner after I close up in a couple of hours. The others will be there too, so I can introduce you properly if Ralf isn't all over you in a second."

"Right, thanks Mitch, that's really convenient. See you later then."

Sam took care to stir Dean, whose face still looked somewhat loony, out of the door, over the street to the car to make sure they were outside hearing distance when the tantrum began.

"What. The. Hell. Have. You. Done?"

"Dean, calm down, I got us the most perfect cover! Think about it, we've just got to play along for a bit to get all the info and then we're out of here. He would never have talked to us otherwise."

"I can't believe it, Sam. What did I tell you?? NO FUNNY BUSINESS. How are we supposed to act out a gay couple in front of half the gay population of Pittsburgh, we're brothers for God's sake… and straight!"

"Dean, it's not that difficult, we're mistaken for a couple enough times and I didn't even have to lie in there… you just give an impression and let people spin their own story. And you don't have to act all lovey-dovey, being a drama queen like right now will be more that sufficient."

Dean looked at him over the roof of the car like he really wanted to strangle him right now. Instead he wrenched the car door open and got in pondering the situation with his hands firmly on the wheel as if he was thinking of leaving Sam on the sidewalk.

When you rationally thought about it, like strategically and all… Sammy's logic was actually quite unbeatable, loath as he was to admit. And no matter how much his pride told him to fight tooth and nail for his side of things this time, he had the feeling that something of their line of work was going on here. And then his saving people thing had to come through and squash his pride to the ground with a blink of the eye. Ah, damn, he was entirely too masochistic for this job.

"Ok, Sammy get in, but I'm not staying at that hovel, whatever it is, let's just go and find ourselves a seedy little motel."

When Dean had started up the car, Sam felt comfortable enough to point something out even if his big brother never actually agreed to going along with their undercover mission.

"You know Dean, we're supposed to meet Mitch at Ralf's for dinner tonight. He'll be suspicious if we don't stay there after he recommended us."

Dean closed his eyes and let his head fall down in between his hands on the wheel.

"Sam, this is soooo going to be the very last time you chose a hunt, EVER."

"Yeah Dean… because you so want to do all the research from now on. Get over it, it will probably go over much faster this way and then you can hightail it outta here."

With a final shake of his head, Dean took off down the street.

"Then lead the way, Samantha."

"You sure this is the right address?"

Sam squinted at the signs, then at the note in his hand.

"Yep, sure."

"Damn. This is one hell of a hovel."

They had the car parked in front a Victorian style mansion that loomed of the end of the street like living, breathing thing. It had at least three storeys and about a dozen windows on the front side. The walls were painted a deep burgundy red that began to fade in the growing dusk and some lights were on behind the huge windows.

Dean looked at the house once more and then down at himself.

"Think they'll even let us in, street-urchins that we are?"

"No way to find out but ring the bell."

The man who opened the door just HAD to be Ralf, because he certainly looked the type. He let his eyes rake up and down their travel-worn frames and obvious refrained himself from crinkling his lip in distaste. Sam decided to clear the coast before they got the door shut in their faces.

"Hi, I'm Sam, this is Dean and Mitch sent us. He said to ask Ralf to make room for us and to greet Monica, the cook."

Astonishment quickly replaced the frown, followed immediately by a much more friendly expression.

"Ah, so Mitch sent you? Should have known, he's prone to taking in strays. Come on in I'm sure we'll find a nice little room for you two."

He turned and waved them to follow him into the house which looked much cosier inside than the gloomy exterior led to believe. There was a long corridor ahead of them with lots of doors on either side. Some were open and obviously led to the TV room and the like.

Ralf led them through a door nearly at the end which led into a spacious kitchen with a big oak table in the centre that was easily fit to accommodate more than a dozen people for sure. At the other end of the room a woman pottered around with plates and pots.

"Hey Monica, look what you're son sent you for dinner, two new house guests!"

The woman turned around and beamed at them with a smile that showed considerable resemblance to Mitch's undoubtedly giving away the family relations. She was actually smaller than her son by at least three inches also with the same dark hair and Dean noted instantly that she didn't look like she would have an adult son even if she was clearly middle-aged.

"No problem, Ralf, and my aren't you two boys handsome. Shame all the pretty ones always end up gay…" Ralf rolled his eyes at the comment. "Are you two up to a cup of freshly brewed coffee?"

Dean groaned at the fumes wafting from the hearth and quickly nodded.

"You know, if you always welcomed a man like that, I'd ask you to marry me."

Instantly, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and he could hear his brother's voice near his ear.

"Yeah, Dean, you would, if you weren't already taken, would ya?" Sammy said, subtly reminding him of 'no flirting with the women' right now. Man, this job sucked.

The comment brought on a chuckle from the other two and Ralf clapped Sam on the back moving to an unobtrusive door nearby.

"I'll just get all the papers for your check in, ok? Dinner's in half an hour it goes with the room as well as breakfast, so just sit down and don't let Monica chew your ears off!"

"Never mind him, so guys, what brings you to town?" asked the woman while putting to cups of steaming coffee in front them.

"Oh, we're private investigators and after hearing about the attacks, we thought we'd come here to look into it properly, because the police sure as hell won't make it first priority."

"Ah, yes… I mean there are some good boys with the police department here, but they're not really enough to make a difference. Toby and Jack are lucky to be out of hospital in a week or so, but for Carter… well, we don't know exactly if he'll ever wake up again. It's a shame that they haven't got the slightest clue as to who's done it. There's just no evidence and well, what are they to do about that."

"Well, maybe we can help. We specialize in all the … obscure cases."

"Yeah? Well maybe you can find something than. I'm sure Mitch will be happy to help you out with the local informants… Toby's been living here forever, so it's quite personal."

Ralf took that cue to emerge again from the office with quite a few forms at hand.

"So, here you are guys. Got room thirteen for you but fear not, nothing untoward's ever happened there I didn't know about in the first place."

Dean mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, and Monica piped up.

"And don't you dare charge them full, they're here to help about the attacks. Private Investigation you said, right?"

"Yes ma'am, we'll look into it first thing tomorrow morning."

"Really? Well, that's brilliant. We could use some help finding that bastard. Wonder why he doesn't show himself like the man he obviously believes himself to be!"

Monica had retreated to her stove, making the most delicious fumes emanate into the air. Sam started to fill in the forms while he let Ralf chatter on with Dean, exchanging harmless details about their life and profession. Apparently, the Hostel was somewhat of a refuge for local gay population. Not that they didn't have regular customers as well, but there were also quite a few semi-permanent residents who just liked to live at the little hotel and some just swung by on a regular basis to eat dinner with the occupants of the house, like the lesbian couple that had knocked on the frame of the kitchen door a few moments ago. Ralf introduced them as Vivian and Rose and they immediately took to Dean. Sam wanted to roll his eyes, trust Dean to appeal to the ladies even if they were officially not interested.

From time to time there came a new addition to the table now. Tom and Axel, an older couple of accountants came down for dinner welcoming Sam and Dean heartily into the fold. Finally Mitch arrived with Sanjay and Scratchy in tow. His actual name was Brad, but nobody bothered to call him that. He wouldn't give away how he had acquired the nickname though. Claimed that it catered to his mystery man image, which was rather pointless because he was more obviously a fairy then any other of the occupants at the table. Now that the round was complete for the day, Monica proceeded to feed them a hearty meal and all chatter died down instantly for a few blessed minutes. The food was delicious and Dean was quite vocal about that one of course. His cheesy compliments made most of the round snicker, as they couldn't have known how long it had been for Dean to get a home-cooked meal. After a while they felt quite comfortable and familiar with all the people, not really tapping into the issue of relationships at all, until…

"So, Dean, how long have you two actually been together?"

Rose's innocent question made Dean choke instantly on his beer he'd been drinking at the very moment. Sam slapped him on the back and reverted to not quite telling a lie, as was best in the situation.

"Well, actually we've known each other basically all our lives, but then I went to college and we lost contact before anything came out of it. Dean came for me roughly one and a half years ago and we've been kind of sticking together ever since."

Dean regained his posture and launched into the tale. He threw an arm around his brother and ruffled Sam's hair to his indignation.

"Yeah, now that's my boy, he can't quite get on without me."

The women at the table – Scratchy included of course – awwwwed and fawned about romantic reunions. After that, both of them got a little bit uncomfortable and decided to play the unpacking card to settle in for the night.

When they went to their room after getting the duffels out of the trunk, they were pleasantly surprised. Pastels alright, but no unnecessary trinkets of kitsch scattered everywhere and no gay nudes on the walls. They'd had worse with every possible motel room in the country. But after looking through the room noting the adjoining bathroom door they faced the one remaining problem of the room.

That's it… one.

Bed.

"Sammy, you got us into this mess, you take the floor."

"The hell I am. We can't even ask for additional bedding; that would look like we had a lover's spat or something. We've shared before and it's a king, it'll work."

"Sam, we shared a bed last time when you were eight! And not a six foot four Sasquatch with the habit to throw real fists in your sleep!"

"I don't throw fists, and you're the one sleeping with the ten inch shiny steel under your pillow. Make do! We always have."

Grumbling Dean vanished into the bathroom closing the door with a bit more noise than strictly necessary. Sam sighed and made to unpack the most necessary things and stow the weapons away as inconspicuously as possible. After all even private investigators where not supposed to come with an arsenal that included machetes and throwing stars. He sat down in front of the window, observing the street while he waited for his computer to boot. He wanted to look into the local gay bashing history and the prominent names in it. If they were dealing with a vengeful spirit it was most likely one of those. He heard the shower running and decided that he wouldn't be up much longer researching after Dean finished his evening routine. And while was really not keen on sharing a bed with his brother, it looked awfully soft and warm and he was still beat from the drive and all the commotion they'd had today.

After a few minutes of scanning the local records available, he had the impression that the gay movement around here was quite active unfortunately attracting the attention of the opposition quite strongly as well. There had even been some kind of a riot in the early nineties. He jotted down some names to remember and may ask about tomorrow and then got up when steam flowed out of the open bathroom door and Dean emerged wrapped in a towel. He passed his brother to do some freshening up himself. When he came out of the bathroom, Dean was already lying sprawled on the bed, deliberately snoring as if he was already asleep. Sam chuckled under his breath and changed into night clothes – which meant a t-shirt and shorts. Dean had chosen the door side of the bed as always, facing the window as well. Sam lifted the covers and crawled in, nudging Dean to make more room as he currently occupied like two thirds of the bed. Dean made room alright, taking about another two thirds of the bedding with him. Sam smiled at his brother's quite obvious sulking and resigned himself to a night of unconscious tug-of-war.

Dean woke up from someone breathing down his neck – literally. He forced his sleep-fuddled brain to sort out in record time what happened yesterday. Normally he didn't stay long enough to fall asleep in bed with his one-night-stands. When he took stock though, he noticed that he was on the wrong side of the cuddling attack and that the hand splayed out on his chest was not quite the small and feminine version he should have been expecting. In fact, it was quite large and attached to an arm that was followed up by the rest of his little brother. And when said brother nuzzled his neck murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like 'Jess' he flung himself out of bed like he'd been stung. Sam sat up instantly wide awake.

"Dean, wha's a matta?"

The older man decided to just not go into it right now as it was embarrassing for both of them and would open a whole new can of worms about Sam being used to sleeping with someone.

"Nothing, nothing, Sam. Just really, really got to pee right now."

Sam just huffed and turned around to start snoring again, hugging the blankets like a lifeline. Dean slapped a hand over his face and asked himself again why he had agreed to this. It was sure going to be the most embarrassing case of his life… well, he just got to make sure nobody lived to tell the tale… figuratively speaking.

After a big breakfast they headed out to the hospital to question the victims. The comatose guy was a bust of course they wouldn't get anything from him for sure. His parents were sitting at his bedside, but they couldn't supply them with anything more than that he had been a good kid. Going through a bit of a rough patch at college right now due to a quite messy break-up with a cheating boyfriend, but otherwise completely clean from the records. Of course, the parents wouldn't know everything about their son, but the pattern of the attacks suggested a rather loose selection of victims, first and foremost they were gay, period. The second guy they talked to was actually the first victim and a popular local drag queen. He was to be released from the hospital in two days time and had had only minor injuries like light concussion, scrapes, contusions and a partially fractured ankle. But unfortunately he had not seen the attacker at all, as he came from behind and knocked him out quite effectively with the first blow. He got a bouquet of flowers with some balloons while they were there, telling them that his family lived in California and would've flown in immediately if he hadn't been able to hold them off due to the less severe injuries. He had quite the assortment of flowers arranged around his bed after getting one each day for a week now.

"So Toby, you're the only one of the victims who was actually able to see the attacker?"

The blond boy in the bed nodded. He couldn't have been more than nineteen and he gave off the impression of being quite lively normally, which was surely impaired by his broken hip at the moment.

"Yeah, I was walking home from Woody's when he stepped out of the alley. I first thought he was having a heart attack or something because he staggered, his head bowed as if he were in pain. But when I drew near, he like pulled a baseball bat out of nowhere and caught me full on at the hip. The doctors said two inches higher and I probably would have ruptured something important and have had internal bleeding. Could've not even made it. I was lucky I guess… I went down he kicked me again a couple of times and I mean, I was protecting my head and didn't really get that good a look on his face. Probably the police are right and I got something messed up in my head."

The brothers perked up immediately, those were the phrases their workload consisted off.

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, it's not really important…"

"Tell us anyway, everything we know helps, even if it might be a bust."

The kid looked between them obviously trying to judge if they would think him nuts and seemed to find something to make him ease up.

"Huh… If it wasn't the weirdest, creepiest thing I ever saw I would say it was old Hugh Benson."

"And why would that be weird at all? I mean, the police could go take him in. There would've been no problem with that."

"Why, because they would've had to go to the Mary-Parson Cemetery and dig him up. He died like two and a half years ago, see what I mean?"

"Right, that would have been highly unlikely for a dead person to get up and attack people around here. But thanks anyway, we'll get back to you if we find something or need to talk again."

They left the hospital minutes later and got into the car. When Dean drove off, he gloated.

"Well, Sam, I'm beginning to like the taste of the case. In and out in a flourish… he even pointed us the right location. Haven't had that easy a case in ages!"

"Yeah Dean, but I know the name of this guy… he was a local conservative that went quite hard up against the gay movement, even if there were never any attacks traced back to him, not even rumours. This is a though guy, I don't know if his ghost will be all too happy about being roasted, we should expect some action tonight."

"Aww, Sammy, it's never good without some action. Now if the prats would leave without a fuss, what would be the point in hunting them down, eh? I'm itching for some fight anyway."

"Yeah Dean, you would."

That's it for today… the story's all but finished and will be up in three parts, how fast depends on how the response is… I hope you let me know if you want more!


	2. Rock the world

"Aww, Sammy, it's never good without some action

Ok, on with the show!! Thank you for the kind reviews, the boys are sadly not mine and I'll put them back after making them go through some very embarrassing situations!! Have fun!

"_Aww, Sammy, it's never good without some action. Now if the prats would leave without a fuss, what would be the point in hunting them down, eh? I'm itching for some fight anyway." _

"_Yeah Dean, you would."_

Turns out, their plans for the evening didn't head directly to the cemetery. Mitch and the crowd were hell-bent on taking them out to the bar called 'Woody's' to 'show them around for a little bit'. As they didn't really have a good excuse, cause it was Dean and a BAR for God's sake, they decided to leave the grave digging moment for later tonight. It wouldn't really do good anyway to tell them, well, we got our dates on the romantic setting of the local cemeteries, and there's no candlelight, but lighter fluid and salt… and quite the obnoxious stench. So they let themselves be dragged along to the establishment that looked to be quite up to Dean's standards from the inside, even if the patrons were kind of a different colour. But he seemed to feel at home at once among the dark wooden tables, squatting at the bar and ordering a beer like he had already been here hundreds of times. Sam sat down right beside him, casually throwing an arm over his shoulders and purposefully ignoring the glare from his brother. The others chattered around them and asked what they had found out at the hospital today. They were disappointed to hear that there was nothing really substantial to be gained from the witness reports.

Consequently, the conversation moved on from the attacks to the next best thing on the gossip scale – Sam and Dean. Scratchy looked like a real flouncy kid, but he actually wore pretty though bandages when interrogating someone.

"So, Sam... Dean, I hear you've still got the skeletons in the closet at home?"

Dean looked up a bit confused at that, as if he had to count the skeletons first, but seemed to catch on pretty fast.

"Yeah, most people don't know what we're really up to."

"Not even your parents?"

Dean took a swig of his beer, pondering mostly likely what to tell and what to leave.

"Well, no, my parents didn't know."

"Didn't?" Scratchy raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, they're dead… happened ages ago, don't worry about it. So I don't really know what they would've got to say about my lifestyle, but well, my uncle Bobby, he knows about everything I've been up to, and he's pretty cool."

The others murmured their condolences, but Dean only waved them off. Sam could see he wasn't as cool as he pretended to be, thinking about Dad, but that was only obvious for someone who'd known him his whole life. Only when Scratchy turned to him did he notice that they were in a bit of a pat with the truth here…

"Well, I didn't get off the hook as easily I presume. My Dad totally freaked when I told him I wanted something else from life than he did. Threw me out and told me to never come back again. I went to college and that was it. Dean's been my family ever since…"

That one got him another 'AWWW'- moment from the feminine fraction that finally sent Dean running.

"That's it with the chick flick moments, anybody up to pool?"

Tom agreed to try and stand up to Dean – tough luck. Sam stayed at the bar and nursed his beer. Sean, an acquaintance of Mitch's who been introduced by the group a bit earlier, sidled up with him while others moved around to sit at the tables nearer to the pool table.

"So, you had tough luck with your Dad?"

"Yeah, he didn't quite get it that not wanting to live life like he did was actually possible."

"Huh… you could say that. My dad hasn't once in his life acknowledged that there could be something different about his son."

Sam sighed remembering the conversation he'd had with his dad shortly before Salvation… about him being proud and all. Guess his cover story hadn't been entirely truthful at last.

"It's always difficult with parents I think, especially if you got disappoint their expectations. Come on, let's move over, see how Dean kicks ass."

The two opponents were already well into the game and Dean was wearing his usual cocky grin that spoke of money to be rolling in soon. Sam went up to him from behind when Tom had a shot and set his chin on Dean's shoulder, whispering "Remember? No hustling with people who know where you live, especially if they're in finances." instead of the sweet it probably looked like. Dean winced slightly and then shrugged him off.

"Yeah sure, whatever."

He went to take his shot, concentrating in the table and shifting in his position so much that Sam couldn't resist the temptation. On his way to the tables where the others sat he slapped Dean on the butt, resulting in the cue ball jumping of the rim and bouncing in front of the audience that roared with laughter.

If looks could kill Sam would've been one dead puppy right now.

When the others decided to call it a night after some more friendly games and teasing banter, Sam and Dean both conveniently had some drinks to finish. They told the group to head home, they would be in a bit later. After making sure that Mitch, Ralf and rest of the ladies were on their way home safe and sound, they headed out to the car. On the drive to the cemetery, Dean wasted not a second to launch into a rant.

"Dude, I can't believe I have to put up with all that touchy-feely stuff you dish out lately. You're practically groping me all over, what the hell's that about?"

"Well, Dean in case you've forgotten, we're supposed to be a couple, which means at least a most basic level of physical intimacy. Besides, if I hadn't laid claim, you would've been run over with offers!"

"Physical i… laid claim? Excuse me; let's get out of the archaic here! And there would so NOT have been any offers."

"Yeah, because the way half the guys eyed you at the bar was exactly innocent… back to front."

Had he not had his hands firmly on the wheel, Dean suspected he might have been tempted to some really embarrassing hand action.

"They were checking me out, I mean for real?"

Sam rolled his eyes in a 'well duh'-motion. Trust Dean to categorize every female into available, delectable and unacceptable the moment he came into a room, but have a completely broken gaydar.

After a few more details on Sam's part and a few very wide-eyed stares on Dean's part, they arrived at the cemetery. Finally Dean got to be on familiar territory again and concerning they were talking about a place to bury the dead it sure said something about his messed up mind. He shouldered the shovel and followed his brother through the maze of headstones and crypts to the designated place where Hugh Rupert Benson had been buried and was supposed to stay in the ground. When they finally found the grave, it had a rather ugly, bulky headstone that gave of the exact same impression his owner must have given off in life. Bundles of dry flowers were scattered all around it, looking not really as if the grave had received a very thoughtful maintenance. Dean shrugged and went to put the shovel to good use.

"Wait, Dean, stop!"

"What now? What are you doing…" Sam was sorting out the bundles.

"Saving you some futile digging for now. Look at these flowers… Rosemary, Lilies… Papaver and willow leaves… plus something that looks suspiciously like Datura. Just let me look…" Sam circled the headstone, looking closely at the black veined marble.

"Bingo, look over here."

Dean joined his brother and finally saw the sign engraved into the side of the stone. It was a circle, a double wreath to be exact with something that looked like a dagger slashed through… such a sign combined with the flowers meant one thing.

"Witchcraft."

"Yeah, someone's been summoning that ghost, and with some pretty heavy duty stuff as well."

"Sonofabitch!"

"Well Dean, just like you said, when's it ever THAT easy!"

"That means digging up the bones right now won't do shit… at least not until with find that would-be magician and knock over that little black altar. Great, and we haven't got the slightest clue who could be behind it, because this fucker is THE gay-basher in town and it could be anyone from deluded followers to someone hiding behind the image."

"Sometimes, Dean, your bursts of wit scare the crap out of me. It means we gotta stay a little bit longer and do some serious research among the usual suspects."

"Yeah, yeah, glee thy name is Sam. You're actually enjoying this, are you? It's like big brother teasing paradise. But just so you know, this going to go the other way round soon."

"Awwww… don't be so grumpy. Have a little fun!"

"Sure, getting patted and groped and ogled all the time! Fun!"

"That's equalization, Dean."

The next morning saw Dean waking because something wasn't quite right… again. When he registered the additional knee shoved between his usual ones tangled in the sheets and the quite sturdy arm cushioning his head, he was clued in fast enough. Damn, his little brother sure had a streak for protective cuddling. To make sure said little brother didn't wake up to their once again very embarrassing set-up, he untangled his limbs carefully and got out of bed, leaving Sam to retract his arm up to his head, burrowing his nose into the pillow.

If Dean hadn't been such an upstanding, no-nonsense, very straight man, he would've actually thought it endearing. As it was, he just looked at the clock and the bedside table and noted it was half past eight… perfect time for breakfast. Monica had made them pancakes and Dean relished in the taste of homemade pancakes, complimenting the woman until she shushed him for his flattery and told him he was supposed to leave some for his boyfriend. He told her in turn that if said boyfriend was too exhausted from last night's activities to get up at a decent time, he would have to live with low pancake rates. It warranted quite a few cat calls from around the table though and Dean began to get the feeling that his usual cocky self worked with group as well, so in the back of his mind, a plan began to formulate itself. When Sam finally came thundering down the stairs into the kitchen almost an hour later his hair dishevelled and shirt buttoned the wrong way from waking up and finding Dean gone without as much as a note, everybody laughed and Dean told Sam to relax. When Sam asked why they were laughing, all he got was secretive grins. It showed although, that they were by no means used to leading a normal life where people woke up, knowing their brothers were down at the breakfast table and not kidnapped by some ass creepy thing that had crawled out from under the bed.

Sam wanted to spend the day at the local library, trying to find out what exactly it was that evoked the spirit and if there were signs that could be traced back to the actual culprit. He found out that he'd been right and the flowers and herbs at the grave were all connected to the dead and the mourning. On his research in the net he actually found the symbol on the headstone to be some kind of binding link, confining a spirit to a certain area. Huh… that would actually have been a useful one for hunting if it didn't require some remains of the deceased to seal it in the first place. If they had to dig up the bones just to confine the spirit around the grave where it would attack them, they could do the salt n' burn and get over with it more quickly. But it proved one thing… if there hadn't been some digging up done to grave before – and it had looked rather undisturbed until Dean and his shovel came near it – then their witch had had something from the beginning, which meant a connection of some sort to Hugh Benson. He'd sent Dean around some of the more conservative establishments, feeling around for possible old buddies or other minions that could be interested in using Benson's spirit for random gay-bashing. Unfortunately, the hints at the grave didn't point out how the spook was controlled to attack certain people, which was a whole different colour than just evoking something. He couldn't know for sure how their target was doing it until they found the altar or something along those lines that meant he couldn't start looking for ways to get rid of it really. By the time Dean came around to pick him up again sometime around five, he was really frustrated and not a bit farther. Dean didn't fare much better concerning his mood.

"Dude, I tell you I'm definitely a ladies man, but whatever rocks your boat. But you see, these people? Tolerance level like zero, for everything that's got nothing to do with garden gnomes and country club. I felt like a roach and now I positively reek square… they even eyed me for the leather jacket! I'm so gonna hit the shower when we're home, hope to God, please get that air freshener out of my hair."

Sam chuckled, refraining from telling Dean just how gay that sentence had sounded there. When they got back, he let his brother have his shower, which turn out to last longer than the average, lounging on the bed all the while he tried to keep his stomach from growling at the prospect of dinner.

Dean stalked out of the bathroom, towel around his hips, using a second one to dry his hair and walked over to Sam, who sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Now Sammy, you up to something dirty?" He asked, cocking his hips suggestively.

Sam gapped at him in utter shock.

"No Dean, I'm most definitely not up to something DIRTY… we're straight and you're my big brother for God's sake!! Besides, it's almost time for dinner, so what are you on about?"

"That's exactly the point. Like you said, we're a couple of young, incredibly handsome, supposedly gay males alone in a room with one bed and lots of time to spare. Better make it believable! BESIDES," he used the towel to slap Sam on the abdomen, making him flinch, "your 'gorgeous' body could use some exercise… so, on your knees Sammy."

Ralf made his way up to room thirteen… after the boys hadn't shown up for regular dinner time and didn't seem to be drawn out by the delicious fumes permeating through the air he felt obliged to remind them to come down for the evening meal. When he came up to the door he knocked twice and piped "Boys, dinner's ready, so if you want to have some you should come down now."

What answered him from behind the closed door was a long deep groan.

Ralf raised an eyebrow, but couldn't refrain from leaning a little closer to the door. He heard a voice, seemingly oblivious of his former inquiry, sounding a bit breathless.

"Now Sammy, that's all you got? That's roughly three inches… come on, try and push a little harder!"

Another moan was followed by a little sigh.

"Now, that's my boy."

Ralf straightened, a devious little smile playing about his lips.

"Ok boys, you seem to be busy… alright just come down whenever you're ready!"

The other side of the door saw Dean sitting on his brother's broad back quite comfortably. Sam, however, had no such luck as he was the one trying to do the push-ups, stemming his brother's weight as well.

"Ugh... he gone? Huff, I'm sooo going to kill you for that! That's got to be the single most embarrassing moment in my life."

Sam bucked up to throw his brother of his shoulders, not a difficult feat as Dean heaving with laughter he'd tried to keep in practically the whole time until Ralf had come up the stairs.

"Nghnhhh... that's what you get for slapping people's butts. You made your single bed, now you got to lie in it."

Dean got up to dress and get ready for dinner as the 'physical exertion' had him quite famished. Sam debated on actually tackling him with a tickling attack for that one, but the hunger won out.

Ralf came down into the kitchen/dining room with the most mischievous grin playing around on his face when he sat down between the group that today consisted of Mitch, Scratchy, Axel, Sanjay and the two girls, Rose and Vivian. Monica turned around from the stove to put the pot on the table, taking on a puzzled look.

"Now Ralf, where are the boys? I thought you went up to get them!"

"Let's just say I don't think they'll be down for another ten minutes or so… at least it sounded like it."

Everyone threw him dirty looks and then guffawed out loud.

"Oh Ralf, you didn't!"

That was Rose.

"Tell more!"

That was Mitch.

"Oh crap, such studs, a couple AND an existing sex life, it's unfair."

Sanjay had let his head drop on the table.

"Somebody talking about me?"

That was Dean as he came strutting through the door a still slightly dishevelled Sam hot on his trails.

The people around the table all had a stunned expression, not having expected them down so soon. Looking back Sam thought they'd probably should have waited for a bit more, but his stomach had growled so loud that Dean had ushered him out immediately after dressing.

"Well, I didn't expect you down so soon!"

"What can I say, Ralf my boy, we were just about to wrap it up. Don't worry, you missed nothing important."

The stunned silence stretched some very awkward moments until Monica finally set down that pot and made them all sit down and eat in peace. The banter started again in no time, but it was comfortable and friendly. Sam and Dean were happily swimming in the shallow waters of small talk about not really having found anything valuable on the case for now when it came to the plans of the group for the evening again.

"So, watcha say guys, you up to a bit of clubbing tonight?"

"Clubbing, where?"

"Oh, we're got a place round here, it's Babylon, we're there 'bout once a week to dance and mingle a bit. The drinks are awesome!"

Sam and Dean shared a look, silently communicating about the topics of GAY dance club, need for research and not raising suspicions.

"Look guys, we'd really like to go, but I'm afraid our wardrobe is not really equipped for a club night right now," Sam answered, when their gazes snapped back into the round.

He met a met a range of big round eyes and then Rose piped up.

"You kidding? That's not a problem at all. You'll be up to it in no time, trust us!"

The sleek black car was purring her way down the almost deserted late-night streets of Pittsburgh, following two pretty much less elegant vehicles to their destination. After taking a left turn into an alley where quite a few people were already standing around in the street, they passed the club entrance adorned with a flashy neon sign. Lots of eyes followed the foreign car as it parked a little way back from the entrance, waiting for the new guys to get out. The passenger door opened first, and getting out was a huge, steel-muscled man who turned back around in the door talking to the driver still inside of the car.

Sam tried not to look around self-consciously; his club wear was actually not that far from his usual attire. Loose jeans, ripped at certain places, heavy boots and a white wife-beater, which was completed by two bandanas wrapped around his wrists and palms like a boxers tapes and a bout of sexily tousled just-out-of-bed hair. Additionally, Vivian had made him wears some powder that made the skin on his arms, neck and face shimmer all bronze and golden like he'd just stepped out of the Californian sun. He looked for the others parking their cars and getting over to the Impala, and turned back to wait for Dean to exit the car.

The driver's door opened and foot appeared encased in a dark cowboy boot that was followed up by a leg clad into a pair of the tightest black leather pants. The rest of Dean emerged wearing only his beloved leather jacket over his bare chest, the pendant lying directly on his skin. His eyes were shaded by big sunglasses and he leaned on the door looking for all it was worth like he owned the place.

Then he turned around, looking at Sam over the roof of the car and adjusted the pants around his groin.

"Damn, these things are so tight; I wonder how any man who values his marbles would agree to wear them."

Sam rolled his eyes at him, closed the door and walked around the car to wait on Dean's side for the others to catch up with them. Mitch and Scratchy arrived first, Ralf and the girls moved at a more leisurely pace. They had all watched the entrance of their evening's works and noted the looks that had been thrown around. Scratchy was positively squealing with excitement.

"You two look positively. Delectable! If I didn't know you were firmly taken, Dean, I'd eat you up right here against the car."

"Alright, rule number one, no funny business with the car! Only ones who get a ride in there is me and Sam."

That started off another round of roaring laughter and the group worked their way to the club all the while.

When they actually came through the entrance, it was to a factory style interior, a strobe of colourful lights, scantily clad dancers performing on the bar and platforms and a roaring crowd on the dance floor moving their bodies to the powerful bass of the music. Dean's eyes widened in astonishment he was glad to be hiding behind the generous sunglasses. Only Sam seemed to notice his brother's awe. While Dean was very much acquainted with the accommodations of seedy bars and the like, he had never much cared nor had the time to get into a serious clubbing scene. The sheer mass of noise and gyrating bodies seemed to overwhelm him as he made his way over to the very familiar lifeline – the bar. Sam followed closely with the other boys in tow… they lost the girls quickly in the crowd as they went looking for more friends that had promised to show up tonight.

Dean had reached the bar with a swagger, apparently landing on his feet once again without batting so much as an eyelash. He took the sunglasses from his nose, put them into his jacket and had a bartender running up to him in the blink of an eye.

"Something strong, cold and decidedly NOT colourful."

He got glass of Jack, tipped it thankfully to the bartender and took a big swig at once. The others gathered around them at the bar that was illuminated by bright white lights behind milky glass. Sam leaned against the bar on Dean's right side, Mitch to his left a bit of space between them and Ralf throwing his arm about Mitch's shoulders from the other side. Sam got himself a beer and nursed it slowly, observing his brother out of the corner of his eye. While his presence at the Woody's had been very obvious and intimidating to most of the patrons, Dean was fair game in here. He didn't really wonder about proposals of his own as long as he stood next to his brother.

And Sam should be proven right as always… no sooner than he was about to finish his drink was Dean approached by a bulky man with practically no neck, but a predatory gleam in his eye. He wedged himself into the space beside Dean and Mitch and brought his mouth to the young man's ear. Simultaneously, Dean felt a thumb hooking into the back of his pants, the rest of the hand splayed out at a place where it definitely had no business to be.

"What do you say, sweetcheeks, why not the ditch the boring company here and move this to a more exciting level?"

Ralf and Mitch stared wide-eyed while Sam eyed the hand on his brother's butt disdainfully knowing it would be taken care of in a second. And true to his word, Dean didn't even miss a beat and in one fluid motion had the offending hand bent back in a vicelike grip that could have easily broken all fingers at once, given the pressure to be adjusted.

"I'm good, thanks, and if your filthy paw ever comes near that arse again inside a fifteen feet radius, I'm going to break all the bones in your hand into so many pretty little pieces that they'll rattle all the way down your elbow without help."

The man's face had turned a different shade of pale with each word, probably also because of the increasing pressure that was just bordering on keeping his promise at once. In the end he was allowed to scuttle off with no more than sever bruising to fingers and ego, but Dean had made his point and turned around to order another drink.

Ralf and Mitch still hadn't shaken their stupor and now turned to Sam owlishly blinking, as if asking what the hell had just happened here. Sam just shrugged his shoulders and cocked and eyebrow.

"He's a bossy bottom, you know?"

Ralf answered at once: "I noticed."

Sam saw the glint in his brother's eyes when his words registered a few seconds later and he decided to use the protection of the crowd and excused himself to go for some dancing among the bunch in order to escape the wrath of Dean.

Dean watched his brother vanish into the dancing crowd – well not quite vanishing as he had still about three inches at least over most of the men and women – sipping his drink and grumbling under his breath. Now he get to being assaulted from one second to the other and his brother's got nothing better to do than taunt him. Well, at least that guy would be careful for a while whose behind he touched.

"That's pretty impressive show you put on there… he had it coming for ages."

Dean snuck a glance at the guy that had taken Sam's place, leaning at the bar.

"Yeah, well, he should have thought about where to put his hands in the first place. But you look familiar somehow… you were with us at the bar yesterday, weren't you?"

The guy stuck out a hand for Dean to take.

"Yeah, Sean… we didn't come around to get introduced properly yesterday. I just saw Sam and thought I'd come over for a bit."

"Well, you missed him by seconds I'm afraid."

"It's not a big deal, I wanted to ask you about your necklace anyway, mean something special?"

Dean looked down at the pendant lying comfortably against his chest.

"Protection, some sort, if you believe in it that is. Why, you know your way around that stuff?"

"Oh no, not really, just a few esoteric books lying about at my place, just a hobby really. I like most of the signs and shapes for jewellery mostly."

Dean nodded, but didn't say anything more about it... if these kids new what they were playing around with sometimes… well, there sure would be less stores about selling the stuff that got teenagers tailed by angry spirits or dangerous fairies – with or without the needle-pins.

Dean looked on the dance floor after throwing back his drink and saw that there was quite a bunch gathered near one particular point at the left hand side. Most surprisingly that point turned out to be quite easily identified as his little brother, moving his big limbs rather skilfully to the booming music. He noticed that Sam seemed to attract a big lot of attention and that he was dancing closely with another man like a fish that belonged into water. But Dean would be damned if he let his little brother get the better of him. Sam had been leading on this case at a far greater proportion than Dean was officially comfortable with. Looks like it was time to put these moving skill that he had acquired as a part of the hunter life to good, if a bit unconventional use. He turned to Sean to excuse himself.

"You know, I think I'm gonna do a bit of dancing myself now… someone has to be reminded where to put HIS hands."

Sean grinned and waved him off, and Dean went into the crowd thinking about how he was really starting to enjoy coming up with all this innuendo. Being the gay private-investigator was really not that different from being the next government agent… just it was much more fun.

He weaved his way to packed crowd with a predatory grace zeroing on his destination. There was Sam rather shamelessly being danced at by a ponce that had no business messing around with his little brother. So he had no scruples to grab Sammy at the biceps and spin him around to face him, never missing a beat in his pace. Sam's eyes widened when he saw who had turned him around, but he complied with Dean's rhythm just as the music turned from its ear-splitting thump to a moderately slow pace. The elder man hesitated for one beat and then boldly threw his arms around Sam's shoulders, drawing him close.

"You having fun around here?"

"Well, yeah, it's been quite a while since I had the opportunity to dance, no matter where. But I didn't think you'd be up to joining me here."

"Now, Sammy what can I say, can't have you flirting around like that, somehow I gotta make sure everyone knows you're my bitch."

That made Sam throw his head back laughing.

"Jerk…" he answered with a fond smile.

They stayed on the dance floor a few more minutes bickering and bantering, keeping up the image of leisurely dancing couple. When the next song moved up the beat for a bit again, Dean found out that he was certainly good at throwing his arms over the head moving his hips along with the rhythm, making once again a stunning picture with even more skin of his fit upper body revealed to the masses. Dean just relaxed and fell into the beat, letting Sam take care of any approaching suitors with the puppy pout turned death glare. Nevertheless, after a few more rounds he began to feel the fatigue of having spent the whole day on his feet running research and garden gnoms over half the town and he tucked Sam along back to the bar. Even if he was quite good at keeping awake and alert in life and death-hunting situations, this was decidedly not one of those and he had long since learned to not waste his energy when not absolutely necessary. Or that's what he liked to tell himself… later that night.

After a couple of more drinks they'd managed to get the group together again, minus Scratchy, who would obviously be leaving in different, well-built company. They had lots of fun with Mitch launching into the tale of Babylon's seasonal shows and events they could attend if the case turned out to keep them here for longer. Sam and Dean exchanged a short glance at that conveying what they both thought. With the negative overabundance of hints they had on this one they could very well happen to be stuck here for the rest of the year waiting for the next attack to happen. And they couldn't just abandon the case either as they had grown to really like the bunch… that aside there was a damn witch on the run and that would just not do.

Ok, now there's only a 'wrap it up' around as the last part, I hope you liked it, laughed and reward me with reviews!! They make the merry wide world go round!

Cat


	3. Big Bang

Ok guys, you in for the last part of the ride

Ok guys, you in for the last part of the ride? Then go on reading and have fun!!

Dean had just ordered his last drink when the others decided they were beat and done for the evening. The brothers encouraged them to go on and get home, they'd just stay for Dean to have is drink and then head home as well, not a problem as they had their own ride. Sam didn't want to linger too long though as he was desperate for some sleep and didn't want to wait for the awkwardness to hit when Dean realized that gay clubs actually so weren't his thing. When they finally got out into the chill of the night, the street around the entrance had cleared up quite a bit though there were still some people around chatting away long good-byes or getting a bit of fresh air. The car was parked about 200 meters away and there were no working street lights on the way, not that they were fazed at that being generally more comfortable finding their way about in the dark instead of bright daylight.

The baseball bat materialized from invisible to rock hard approximately six inches before it hit Dean's head full on. Sam watched in horror as his brother crumbled to a semi-unconscious heap at his feet, looking up in the face of their prey that had inevitably turned hunter once again. Sam waited for the ghost with the bat to attack the second one still standing but it instead proceeded to kick his brother in the ribs making him groan, obviously ignoring Sam completely. The younger one knew that he wouldn't be getting ahead in this on hand to hand combat, so he decided in a split second to scramble for the trunk of the Impala some five feet away to get out the shotguns, even if that meant to leave Dean fending for himself in his dazed state for a few more seconds. He spun around, gun cocked and spotted the spook hunched over as if in pain, flickering only the tiniest bit and seemingly muttering undecipherable things to Dean, never once stopping the kicks aimed at his head and upper body, which Dean managed to dodge at least. Sam didn't hesitate and pumped a round of rock salt into the ghastly spirit. Curiously, it didn't vanish like it was supposed to, but the ammo actually embedded itself into it as if it where a real person, even if he was slightly see-through by now. Instead it turned around and made a dash for Sam finally, who was prepared to hand out another round, but just as he was about to shoot the second time, it made a horrible screech and turned into dust at his feet. He blinked slowly once before another groan from Dean made him move his butt into action again. His brother was already getting back up from the ground and dusting himself off even if he swayed a bit.

"Dean, dude, you alright over there? Man, that was weird I tell you!"

Sam steadied his brother at the shoulders and then lifted his chin to have a look at the nasty gash over his temple where he'd been hit.

"Tell me about it, old coot was mumbling weird shit all over the place. You know what, he actually sounded not quite pleased about the whole gay-bashing attitude, dunno why though."

"Yeah, well and he reacted not quite as pleasing to the rock salt as he should have either. I think there's some seriously bad juju going on with this case, this was no ordinary invocation. But first, let's get you back to the Hostel and that cut looked at, I don't think it'll need stitches, but only just."

Sam tried to sneak Dean past the kitchen up the stairs, he really did. His brother had insisted on being perfectly able to walk on his own, but Sam didn't trust his head at the moment so he had a firm grip on his arm. But when they creaked up the stairs, Ralf came out of the kitchen and moved in to tell them good night, but gasped as he saw the blood that had tripped dawn the left side of Dean's face making him look like he had just crawled out of a horror movie. He was hollering for an ambulance immediately, waking Monica in the process, the only one who had her rooms on the ground floor as well. Sam managed to make them calm down and take them to the kitchen, where they could have a look at Dean's head. When he got his brother seated securely at the kitchen table and had sent Ralf for the first aid kit, he began to expertly clean and dress the wound. Monica and Ralf sat down at the table as well looking slightly dazed as they were obviously not needed right now.

"Ok Dean, now it really doesn't look like it needs stitches, thank god. I'll just fix it up and then we'll have a look at the ribs, yeah?"

Ralf butted in: "You guys really look like you do that patching up a lot on your own…"

"Well, trust me, I've had worse then that, job's hazardous sometimes, you know."

Sam helped him get off the jacket, revealing his bare upper body and Monica gasped at the shimmering array of bruises that had already begun to form on his left side, noting the net-like criss-cross of faint lines all over his torso that were not really visible except if you looked closely. Then her gazed shifted up and her hand flew to her mouth, eyes going wide as she leant forward to see if she got it right.

"There on your shoulder that looks actually… is that a bullet?"

Dean glanced down at the round mark on his left shoulder and then smirked at her.

"Well, that one's courtesy to Sammy actually, he was on a mean trip then."

Behind him Sam cringed at the reminder, while the two others reacted even more shocked.

"WHAT?"

"You're not serious!"

"Yeah, we were set on some big boss then and Sam got deliberately dosed with some pretty hard stuff… went a little wild."

"You're really something.. I mean, he shot you and your relationship got still out of it halfway intact? I can't believe it."

"Well, what can I say," Dean raised his head looking Sam in eye while he was bent over him from behind, bandaging the wound. "He's my everything. Besides, when he came to? I punched him. And that's why we have the partner-look now as a reminder."

He tapped the tattoo on his chest, the pentagram in a fiery circle of the sun, roughly two inches from the bullet wound.

Ralf gaped and made Sam show his too, all but cooing over the newest addition to their defences.

"You're not really the ordinary private investigators, are you?"

"Ah, let's just say we are the ones doing the really difficult cases nobody else can get a hang on."

Then something seemed to occur to Monica that hadn't been addressed with all the ruckus yet.

"Holy, wait, what the hell happened to you anyway?!"

The men looked at the petite woman with wide eyes as that didn't exactly match her normal vocabulary, before Dean deadpanned: "Well, you know, someone's been bashing in gay brains around here lately? That one."

"What, and did you get the police, gave a description?"

"Of course not, they'd have sent us to the hospital, and we didn't really get that good a look to able to track the guy down anyway. Besides, striding into a police-station at night all dressed up like that? Yeah sure. We got some pretty valuable hints now and I think we'll be able to deal with that guy soon."

"But you're not going to go after him all alone, are you? You got to inform the police!!"

"Trust me, we will, after we've got hard proof against this guy to take him in for good. But first I'm so going to hit pillows hard. The rest of it can wait till morning!"

Meanwhile Sam had also dressed the bruises with salve and bandaged the ribs to make Dean a bit more comfortable, so they were fit for bed really after all the events of the night.

Dean woke a bit sluggishly to the familiar feeling of his all body hot-water-bag. Problem today was that his left arm was trapped as Sam's head lay on his shoulder blowing warm breath all over his chest, his arm tucked all the way around his upper body, thankfully avoiding most of the bruises, the knees of his freakishly large bent legs digging into his hip and thigh and icy feet rubbing up against his calves. There was no way he was getting out of bed without waking Sammy in the process… but after all his pondering was proven useless as Sam actually woke up on his own for the first time before Dean left the bed. He mumbled something unintelligible and tightened the his arm around his brother, then opening his eyes and blinking owlishly, almost bumping into Dean's nose when he lifted the head to look around and wake up properly. Dean saw the exact moment when recognition flashed through his eyes at what he was actually doing and he flung himself up and out of bed in much the same fashion Dean had done on the first morning, except Sam took the bedding with him and made a hopelessly tangled undignified heap on the floor.

"M'sorry Dean, I didn't mean to… it's just…"

"Relax, I'll live. But it's actually nice of you to come around a bit earlier and therefore you get the honour of taking breakfast up here for us."

Dean's tone left no doubt that he was blackmailing his brother, so Sam reluctantly got dressed and went downstairs to retrieve a tray with all sorts of breakfast goodies.

They ate together and Sam went to his laptop to research ghosts that weren't fazed by salt and had a puppet master behind them to control their actions, while Dean hit the shower.

Dean stepped out of the bathroom only clad in boxers and socks and quickly flung on his clothes when Sam said: "Dean, I think I got something here."

The older one sat down on the beds and started cleaning the weapons they had taken in with them, nodding his brother to continue.

"It's a ritual called 'Breath of Hate' and it's designed to invoke and control the ghost of someone you have despised with all your might in life. The ghosts feel the pull and can try to resist the control, but that causes them pain and they're more resilient concerning the usual ghost repelling stuff for the same reasons. It's meant to be a powerful tool against your enemies, the living and the dead alike. Pretty nasty stuff, we have to look for a black altar, possibly for an invocation amulet like the one for the reaper, you know, destroy the stuff and then do a good old salt-'n-burn. I just wonder still why he did ignore me and actually made the dash when he seemed to come for me…"

"Yeah, me too, because something I noticed, it's like… you're really comfortable on this side of the fence, you know."

Sam looked up from his laptop again.

"Yeah, that's because I'm sitting on it."

The words had left his mouth before he could catch them and Sam felt like all colour wanted to leave his face from one second to the other. Had Dean not been sitting down, he was sure that his legs would have caved in under him.

"Come again?"

"I'm bisexual, Dean."

His hands balled to fists over the keyboard and he only looked at Dean out of the corner of his eye through the messy bangs that successful hid his gaze as his big brother sat there slack-jawed, obviously to shocked to move for a few seconds.

"YOU'RE WHAT?"

Sam hunched his shoulders a bit more slouching in his seat as if he wanted to vanish into it.

"I mean, you're… holy crap, you're really serious, are you? Man, and you didn't EVER bother to think about telling me?"

"Dude, I just had a few flings in college, but it was never really an issue again what with Jess and then… we've been on the road ever since and had better things to do than look for possible relationships. So, yeah, it never really came up."

Dean stood up and slapped his hand over his face, half turning away from Sam.

"That's unbelievable, really, I mean you're my baby brother I should know these things about you."

"But you're not going to punch me now, are you?"

"Dude, I just spent three days with you making up all the sunshiny-gay-couple shit and now you're worried about my possible homophobic tendencies? Come on! But I might just punch you on principle for not telling me sooner."

Sam relaxed gradually, thanking all the heavens for a big brother like Dean… he had meant to tell him, really, but it had really never been an issue that affected them, so the search for the right moment had been conveniently postponed further and further ahead. He looked up and saw Dean his hand still over his eyes seemingly chuckling himself into hysterics.

"Dean, you alright?"

"Yeah… yeah, I'm.. oh god, you know what? It just occurred to me that, with you in the double game, I was like the only perfectly straight ladies man in certainly a mile and a half radius and who did the gay-bashing old codger go after? Me! Mumbling like mad about sons and failures. Sooo WHY ME, damn it?"

Sam looked at him for a few seconds, than back at the computer.

"You know, you're right… we really haven't been looking for a motive. We assumed that the victims are selected randomly by someone like Benson himself… but that doesn't really fit well with the ritual as it's meant for enemies. But what if the culprit is among the community?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow, looking at Sam inquisitively… he couldn't really follow the jumps his little brother did in his thoughts quite yet.

"You said he mumbled something, about sons?? Well, maybe he has one that… wait…"

Sam turned to his laptop and hacked frantically into the keys, obviously searching for something.

"Here it says that he was an upstanding citizen, they were beside themselves with grief at his sudden demise, widow and son attending the funeral.. ok, the son, now… let me…"

A few more clicks and scrambles over the keys opened a page that made Sam let out a surprised whistle. He turned the computer so that Dean could also have a look at the page and the photo.

"Well, I'll be damned!"

Dean parked the car maybe two blocks from the address they had found in the net. His head was still reeling from the revelation of their suspect. Sam was quite sure that he got the motive figured out as well – said it was about jealousy of caring families. Well, duh… though he was quite glad now about being attacked because it got them their final hint, he didn't see why he would prove well for a target. He'd told them his parents were dead and hadn't known, hadn't he? Sam had just cocked his head told Dean that he was a trouble magnet anyway, evil didn't need a reason to come after his ass. The younger brother got a punch on the arm out of it and complained about abuse ever since. Dean just rolled his eyes and got out of the car to grab the weapons and tools they would need to take a look around the house as soon as it was empty. Right when he closed the trunk again, he spotted their culprit leaving the house and taking the car in the other direction down the street. It seemed it was a perfect time for a little breaking and entering in search for the common black altar.

They let themselves into the house and started with the most obvious rooms like basement and attic, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Strangely, both were clean and when they moved onto the rest of the rooms in the house, they found nothing more than some esoteric mags lying around on the coffee table. They were just about to call off the search and rethink their theory on the suspicion when got an idea looking out of the kitchen window to the backyard, where an age-laden shed was looming and looking like it would break down any minute. He waved Sam silently to come over and pointed out where to look next. They moved out through the backdoor and reached the shed that was secured with a decidedly modern-looking lock – which Dean picked in no time of course. When light fell from the door into the interior and the smell of stale air and decay came wafting out, they knew it.

Jackpot.

The altar they found was actually quite little, but with the usual goat head, chicken foot, blood splattered runes. Quite the sleazy stuff… and they found the wall behind the altar plastered with pictures of local gay men, some of them they'd even seen briefly at their visits to the club and bar. Most pictures were mutilated in some way, which made them shudder. Dean was nowhere between the pictures, but they assumed that he had been a spontaneous target anyway. Since the floor was completely concrete and the back wall had little bull eyes to let the air out, they decided to drag the whole shit into the centre of the room and burn it right here, along with the impressive collection of photos – they only kept a select few for evidence to trace the case back to the police. Sam found a collection of the real deal literature and packed them into his backpack to stack up Bobby's library, one never knew when it could be useful to know about these rituals what could not be found on the internet. Besides, the devious little witch wouldn't need them any longer after they were done with him.

The little bonfire cackled merrily and they were just about to wrap it up and stake out for the return of the owner, when Sean's voice suddenly sounded from the door.

"My, what a surprise! You should have told me you were coming over to visit… I would have made the house presentable. But you know, it's not really polite burning other people's things… that was hard work!"

Dean whipped around to the door, his gun out and pointing at the young mans head in one fluid motion, like it extended his arm.

"Yeah, I bet… too bad I don't like attempts at bashing my head in. So I just thought we should take care of the trash for a bit, you know, clear up the air around us."

Sean looked from the older brother to Sam who stood slightly behind Dean in the vicinity of the slowly dying flames and had his gun levelled straight at him as well. He made no move to grab something or invoke the spirit and Dean got the uneasy feeling that this wouldn't be as easy as it looked like. And he was still human so they couldn't just shoot him without the right incentive. That's when he heard the strangled gasp from Sam's general direction and he shot a look out of his eye to see that this damned spook stood behind Sam, one hand on his throat not quite crushing his windpipe but just about making it difficult to breath if Sam's wheezing was anything to go by, the other hand on Sam's arm, aiming the gun in his hand directly at Dean. He cursed under his breath but never once lowered his weapon. Sean would be dead in half a second even if he made Sam shoot at his brother, but prospect of taking another bullet from Sammy's hands wasn't overly appealing. He looked back to Sean still standing in the doorway smirking, weaponless and overly confident.

"Now Dean, it seems we've got a bit of a situation here, haven't we? Considering your reaction, you're sure as hell no private investigator, but I bet you're a smart guy anyway. Why don't you drop the gun and it may not be up to Sam to be the one to shoot you."

Dean knew he had to make time and find out what he was using to control the spirit.

"I got a better idea, why don't you just call back your massive sugar daddy of a spook and maybe you won't be the one ending up with a bullet between the eyes."

He saw Sean's eyes darken with indescribable hatred, but he also saw him fiddling with something in his hand. It looked like a bracelet with a pendant hanging on it.

Gotcha.

But his attention was reverted to the words that next came out of the mouth of his opponent.

"Well, if you're not open to my suggestion, I could just very well have him snap Sam's neck right now, like a twig, what do you say about that?"

Shit!

Dean felt his breath quicken and his insides go all cold at the same time. He was an extraordinary shot, sure but he wouldn't be able to do anything for Sam if Sean got the order out, which he seemed to do mentally anyway. Luckily, he'd got a few tricks still up his sleeve that would be of use now that he was quite sure how the boy was controlling the ghost.

"Ok, ok… you win on this one. See, lowering the gun here!"

Dean laid the gun down on the floor in front of him and straightened back up again, keeping his hands up and open. Sean looked quite smug and opened mouth to taunt him, when everything went downhill fast as Sam decided that he'd been the damsel in distress for long enough and remembered that this spirit was a whole deal more solid than their ordinary spook and therefore also susceptible to bodily attacks. He rammed his foot straight against the knee of the ghost and threw his arm up, making the bullet ricochet into the walls. Sean let out a frustrated scream and threw his hand in the direction of Sam and the ghost in a futile attempt to make the spirit gain the upper hand again, the pendant swinging freely in front of his palm.

Dean saw his opening in a split second and instead of diving for the gun, he let his arm fly in roundabout motion and a moment later heard the satisfying thwack of the pendant breaking in little pieces. A moment of utter silence followed as Sean looked down at his hand with the ridges of the five-point throwing star rising among the shattered bones and parts of the pendant. Then he noticed in horror that his daddy dearest was no longer occupied with Sam but standing in front of him looking scarily furious and making it quite difficult to breath now for HIM. The brothers watched how the enraged and tortured spirit raised him to the tips of his feet and flung him effortlessly into the wall behind against some shelves. They heard a sickening crack and the would-be-sorcerer fell to the floor in a boneless heap, blood spreading out from underneath his head in a slow-forming circle. When the ghost turned towards them, Dean already had his gun aimed at it again.

"Don't you think about it, I'M not even gay!"

But the ghost just let loose an inhuman, ear-splitting screech and imploded into a pile of dust.

Dean blinked slowly and then went over to Sam to help him up from where he'd landed on the floor during his struggles.

"Now, that was anti-climatic…"

He looked over to the crumbled body on the floor as Sam dusted himself off.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't be so sure that he won't be back when we try to toast his ass… he was quite the glittering personality in his own right. And with all that stirring up of unfinished business…"

"Well dude, we'll burn that bitch when we come to it! Anyway, let's get this place sorted out and the police tipped off. Looks like he's still breathing, but I doubt there isn't a crack in that skull, literally. Come on, let's make sure we got it wrapped up."

They called an ambulance as well as the police and made sure to scurry off before both arrived. The evidence that Sean was behind the attacks was stacked neatly at a place where even the police couldn't help but find it and while they would certainly have the most important parts missing in the investigation, but well, that's life. And if Sean made it, if he woke up and if he ratted them out concerning their own part in it, they would be savely away for quite a while. They decided to do the salt 'n burn later that evening and then pack up and leave next morning. The others would only get the condensed version of them going after the Benson-lead from Toby and then finding that stalking altar in the shed, involving the police for further action. No need to worry them with homicidal spirits and the like. When the brothers sat in the car driving back to the Hostel, Sam glanced sideways at his big brother and heaved a sigh that let Dean know he was about to address a talking issue…

"Dean, about… we didn't get to talk…" here we go "about what I told you this morning and…"

"Sam, shut up. You're my little brother and I love ya, I'm not going to hold anything against you. I was just a bit shocked… and then, not."

Sam blinked at him with a curiously raised eyebrow.

"Seriously, I knew there was a girl somewhere inside you!"

That got him a punch on the arm that almost made the car swerve, but he laughed good-naturedly.

"It's alright, man, whatever floats you boat. Just promise you won't hit on me, yeah?"

Sam looked at him in mock exasperation.

"Dude, you're soooo not my type!"

Dean turned to him wide-eyed, feigning a hurt look.

"I'm not?"

"Seriously? No, definitely not. Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam leaned back against the seat, taking in the bypassing city, the sun glinting off the shiny paint of the car and breathed contently. They were alright…

"Let's get back on the road!"

The End.

Ok, this was it, I'm done.. pheww, I haven't written more in one go in like two or three years, but I'm immensely satisfied with how it turned out. I hope you think so too and be sure to tell me yeah?

Bye,

Cat


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